Jim Morrison’s 115th Dream

Last night I dreamed
I was old Charlie Parker
living in the back of a Checker Cab.
My boudoir, my hideout,
party pad sedan to everywhere
spiking ice, man, a Zen breath
that gets my chops down
transcendent and high
on whiskey
blow jobs
and fried chicken.
From gig to gig,
sad girls to bad girls
always on the move
the heat eats my dust
and I run every red light.
The day the wheels come off
I will hit the road
like a man
cut down
from the cross
of joy.




Jay Jeff Jones
Martin Sudden

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